


He's Got A Smile That Seems To Me Reminds Me Of Childhood Memories...

by 1f_this_be_madness



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Finnick Odair didn't die, Gen, He didn't, Mockingjay Spoilers, and this is why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-04-30 00:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5143280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Katniss and the others make it out of the sewers, away from the rat muttations, she realizes someone has been left. And she will not leave her friend behind and leave his wife bereft.</p><p>(The title of this piece is from a wonderful song entitled "Sweet Child O' Mine" and it is sung by Guns and Roses.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Finnick? Where’s Finnick?” I say loudly as the door is about to slam shut.

“It’s too late, Katniss. We have to go,” Gale replies.

“No! I’m not leaving him! He’s my friend . . . and he saved Peeta’s life during the Quarter Quell. Move!” I snarl these words and lunge past my best friend to grab the ring that will re-open the trapdoor.

The scent of rotting roses nearly chokes me, but the giant albino alligator rats aren’t hissing my name anymore, which is good. I grab my bow and take stock of the sewer, trying to spot Finnick. I want to shoot every last one of these demented mutts—but I know that I’ll only have one chance to save my friend, and every single arrow will count.

And there he is—hunkered down in an almost fetal position to protect himself because the rats are ripping and tearing at him with their slavering jaws.

With a rebel yell, I jump off the ladder and land on a rat, killing it before kicking another and shooting a third. “Finnick!!!” I yell and grab his arm as soon as I reach him and do my best to stand him up. He is mangled and bloody, but somehow manages to flash me a dazzling smile.

“Katniss Everdeen, I could kiss you right now!” He cracks. I can’t help but grin before rolling my eyes.

“Tempting, but I think you should save yourself for Annie.” I grunt as I hoist him up so that his hip rests against my ribcage and his arm is thrown about my shoulders. Then I realize we have a problem: if I’m helping Finnick walk to the ladder, I can’t shoot my bow—and he can barely stand on his own, let alone walk on those bleeding oozing feet. To top it all off as a perfect moment, the rats are now returning, having feasted upon their dead brethren. A few leap and I withdraw my arm from around Finnick to shoot them while they are in midair. The rest press in close together, ready to charge and tear us to pieces. I reach for Finnick again, thinking to hold on to him and wallop the rats with the stave of my bow, but

“Run for it,” I hear, and someone comes up on the opposite side of Finnick. It’s Peeta. “I can carry him.”

“. . . Are you sure?” I’m hesitant. I can’t tell if this is hijacked Peeta or regular Peeta, but his face is set and ready, and I don’t want Finnick to die. We’re out of time. 

“YES. We’ll be fine. Go!” So I take off, shooting as fast as I am able to—while running, and let me tell you, it’s a wonder I didn’t fall and twist my ankle—and I scramble up the ladder to turn around just in time to grab Finnick’s hand and then hoist him up under the arms as Peeta pushes him from behind. Finnick is looking much worse now, perhaps because of the stronger light, or maybe he got banged up while limping over with Peeta—blood is seeping from his many wounds. But at least he’s still alive.

Peeta yelps in pain now as a few rats clamp their jaws on his good leg. I take a shot downward, and one lets go, allowing the boy with the bread to kick free and yank himself up and away. Gale once more slams the trapdoor shut and we’re on the move, just to get far enough away from the rats so that we don’t hear them anymore. 

The group bands together and we all tear off strips of our clothing to wrap around Finnick’s wounds. He weakly protests, but I’m not having it.

“You’re not the ONLY person who’s allowed to strip around here, Finnick Odair,” I say, ripping off my left sleeve to put pressure on his right leg. He gives me a shaky grin.

“You aren’t all that bad at that.” I briskly reply,

“Well, I've learned from the best, after all. You certainly were an exhibition when you showed off your undergarments to me and Boggs.”

“Ah, Boggs. And aren’t I right in thinking, Miss Everdeen, that I only had ONE undergarment on?” Finnick manages to smile and I do so back at him. “Katniss—” he gasps as I bind his leg tight to minimize the bleeding, “—thank you for coming back. You too, Peeta,” he adds as Peeta once more comes up beside me. I nod jerkily as Peeta says,

“You saved my life in the arena, Finnick. I figured I should return the favor. Besides, I knew that Katniss couldn’t rescue you on her own.” WHAT?! My head snaps around and as Finnick weakly laughs I swear I see a sparkle in Peeta’s eyes. Is he making a joke, then? Oh, there is hope after all! I beam at him and say,

“Yeah, of course, I’m good with a bow, but otherwise I’m pretty useless.” Peeta legitimately laughs, the expression of happiness suffusing his face with radiance. I honestly never thought I would see that again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing towards the Capitol, Katniss requires comfort--and she receives it from a dear friend.
> 
> (After the second set of *** the bomb has been dropped, literally and figuratively. Oh poor Katniss and poor sweet Prim... but I wanted to make sure that you readers are aware)

Finnick is the last person to enter Tigress’s house—he is still stiff and in immense pain from the alligator rat wounds. Her eyes brighten when they light on him—even bandaged and battered as Finnick is, his thousand-watt smile is still intact and recognizable. 

They share a hug and a quiet conversation. When I ask Finnick about it after we all reach the basement, he says

“Tigress and I met on the Capitol’s trade circuit.” I am about to ask what trinkets they traded, but then I remember Finnick telling me about the people willing to pay for his company.

“So she was prostituted too,” I reply bluntly. “Was she paid with secrets like you?”

“Straight to the point as fast as an arrow. I’ve always liked that about you, Katniss Everdeen. But no, Tigress was –slightly- more conventional to the ways of the Capitol. She got people to buy feline additions and operations for her. That way, she didn’t have to pay for them out of her own pocket.” I don’t know what to say. Why in hell would she ask those insanely rich people to pay for some WHISKERS when she could ask for individual tools to help her escape?! Secrets were worthwhile for Finnick because they allowed him to have power over something: knowledge (despite his lack of power over his own consent and body). And he got a lot of dirt on Snow, which has been really helpful. But what on earth did that type of payment do for her??? Some of these thoughts must show on my face, because Finnick laughs.

“Ah, Katniss—not everyone is as practical as you! I wish we were, but some of us learn to survive in different ways. I chose information, Tigress chose camouflage, and you chose action. Out of the three of us, who was the most prepared for this revolution?” I know he thinks it’s me, but

“You’ve got to be kidding. Finnick, I was the LEAST prepared person. I didn’t even know that what I did in the first Games would spark resistance. I was just honoring Rue and trying to save myself and Peeta. And on the Victory Tour, in Eleven—oh god I never would’ve spoken if I’d known people’s responses would make the Capitol murder an old man . . . Finnick, I-I don’t want anyone else to die because of me.” I am shaking, I know it, and I feel short of breath like I get sometimes after dreams. But this time Peeta is not here to comfort me. He may be in the room, but he’s not completely Peeta. At least not yet. I try to stop the tremors, try to calm myself down. It’s not working, but someone IS here for me. My friend, Finnick Odair. He grips both of my hands and speaks gently yet firmly.

“Katniss, look at me. That’s it. Right at my eyes. I’m gonna help you through this. You’re strong, Katniss Everdeen—the strongest person I have ever met. And this war will be over soon; you’re going to end it as soon as we reach Snow.” My breathing has calmed down a little now, but I’m still shaking. Finnick wraps his arms around me and hugs me, a good strong squeeze like my father always gave. It’s better even than Gale’s hugs, because Gale squeezes me so hard with his arms and his demanding expectations. He always wants something from me that I’m not able to give. But Finnick doesn’t. We understand each other, this District 4 tribute and I. And we both know what we need to do.

***

“Shoot me!” Gale mouths frantically, but I can’t. I can’t do it. Finnick knows I can’t, Peeta knows I can’t (I think), but Gale doesn’t get it. My best friend’s eyes are betrayed as he is dragged away.

***

I look up listlessly as a noise emanates from my open door. I don’t care if it’s a guard—at this point, now that Prim’s . . . I’d be fine with it if someone just shot me in the head. But it isn’t a guard, it’s Finnick. He was taken in by the Capitol too, because he was being watched over by Haymitch. Wait—it's not the Capitol who holds us now. Is it? I don't know . . . all I see is the awful brightness of that blast behind—behind Prim's braid of hair. All I hear is the terrible BOOM that somehow managed to pierce my nearly deaf ear. Only now does my sight clear just enough to see my friend here.

Finnick’s eyes are full of tears, and when I see them, I crumple. He leaps forward, catches me, and we sink to the floor together.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captured in the Capitol after the ascension of Coin, Katniss is unaware of exactly what is happening in the rest of Panem. All she knows is that her dear little sister is dead, and the only person with the (slight) ability to help her is Finnick.

Finnick is in a room a few doors down from mine; as is Haymitch. Gale, I don’t know. None of us do. And Peeta . . . I can hardly bear to think about him; I only hope that he’s dead from eating the nightlock berries. Or at least safe with Tigress somewhere. 

“Snow is a prisoner here too, Katniss,” Finnick says after I’ve stopped weeping about Prim (for the moment) enough to listen. I almost don’t care about Snow. Almost. But when my friend tells me that the old President often sits in the garden alone, a spark of my old hunting instinct comes back, and Finnick sees it. “Now THERE’S the Katniss Everdeen I know and love!” he exclaims in relief. “For a while there you had me worried.” I don’t feel relieved, or worried, or anything at all. I am totally numb.

***

Time passes. I don’t know how much; I can’t keep track of it in here. And truthfully I don’t want to—because all that knowing the time will tell me is how long my little sister has been gone.

***

The first time I feel—a little—is when I finally go find Haymitch to see what his plan is, if there even is one. His door is open and he’s not quite (but almost) dead drunk. Seeing that makes me want to leave and not ask him anything—let him stew in his own sweat and stink—but I know that I’ve got to keep going. At least in this one thing. “Haymitch,” I begin, stepping over empty and broken bottles to get to him. He swings his head over to me, face and hair filthy, and burps.

“What is it now, sweetheart? More boy trouble?” He realizes how awful, stupid, and plain ridiculous that is even as he’s saying it, but I am already turning and leaving the room. Screw this shit. “Hey, wait. Come back!” No. I don’t need this and I don’t need him. I almost feel a sense of satisfaction when I hear a loud THUMP! as his body hits the floor again. Peeta would probably have turned back to see if he’s all right, but I’m not Peeta. 

I am almost running away, retreating back down the hallway to I-have-no-idea-where, until I see a flash of color from the opening door beside me and hear a soothing voice say, “Katniss.” And then I run into someone’s solid torso and strong arms wrap securely around my shoulders. 

Finnick. Thank God. If it had been Snow or someone else, I would’ve probably just let them kill me. Coin too, and the rest of the rebels from Thirteen. I can’t fight anymore and I cannot bear it.

I don’t realize that I’m wailing and shaking until Finnick whispers, “Shh, hush, Miss Everdeen. Come in here with me; come on.” He ushers me back through the doorway that he had just exited—this must be his prison room. I can’t think of this place as anything other than a lavish prison; no one and nothing has yet convinced me otherwise. Sure, we are treated well; no one is torturing us, and we have enough food to eat and receive fresh clothes every day—but that doesn't mean anything. The Capitol can be ruthless in its kindness as well as its cruelty. From the leadup to the Games, l know this all-too-well.

I'm surprised Finnick can be so calm about it. He almost seems to be taking this in stride . . . at least that's what I think until I get a good look at his face as he gently leads me to a comfortable chair piled with pillows. There are lines of worry etched around his eyes, and care around his lips; right now these emotions are directed toward me, but I realize how hopeless my friend's situation is. He has dealt with this before, all those years in between Games in the Capitol when he had been passed from one to another of the elitist of the elite for their pleasure. He doesn't expect to escape the pain again this time, to see Annie or his child when it is born. All he knows is that when the door shuts on him in this type of place, it is pure luck after many years that sets him free. And as I take breaths now, trying to put myself back together, I make a solemn vow: I will not allow this man to be enslaved for his flesh again any more. I will get him back to his wife and child. I will do that even if there is nothing else that I can do.

***

I remain in Finnick’s room with him for hours, it seems like. The Avox who brings his dinner is surprised to see me, but my friend just flashes his thousand-watt smile and asks for an extra plate or two. Then he heaps food upon one for me and wheedles at me to eat it. “You’ll need your strength, my friend,” he points out. “How else will ya pull back the bowstring to shoot ex-President Snow?”

That may be a valid point, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to acknowledge that fact. Finnick looks at me and my sullen glare and laughs. “Look at me, trying to give the best shot in Panem hunting advice! Mea culpa, Katniss.” I can’t be angry with him acting like this, so I shake my head and relax ever-so-slightly, which in return gets me thinking . . . . I need to know EXACTLY what is going on.

“Hey, Finnick, remember what you told me on our last night in the arena?” He has grown serious as he gazes at me, those hazel eyes sad. 

“I do, Katniss. I said, ‘Remember who the REAL enemy is!!’ Why? What are you thinking?” Stretching out my shoulders, I take a big bite of food.

“I’m thinking,” I say with my mouth full, “that I want to talk to Snow.” My friend’s eyes grow wide with concern.

“Damn, Katniss, that’s brave—but are you sure it’s a good idea? You know what effect that monster has on you.” Yeah, I know—the same effect he’s always had. But everything else is changing, and I need to have something to rely on. And in the backwards upside-down reality of Panem, President Snow’s cruelties are the one constant case.

“I need to know why he set off that bomb.” Finnick’s eyes grow wet with understanding tears, and he swallows hard, reaching out to take hold of my shoulder gently.

“I understand. But you may not like his answer. Just be prepared for that.” I nod, patting his hand with mine and trying not to start crying. I've done far too much of that recently. I must be strong enough to find out about this and why—why it happened to Prim.

“I will.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss receives some startling news from ex-President Snow.

“Come, come, Miss Everdeen—you and I at least have the decency not to lie to each other.” My mind is reeling and I feel sick to my stomach. He didn’t order the dropping of the bomb. He didn’t kill Prim. And if he wasn’t the one who murdered my sister, then . . . my mind refuses to move on from there. All I can think as I leave the monster behind in the Rose Garden is that I have to get back to Finnick.

“I need rope,” I say, banging into his room without warning. He stands up and comes over to me, worried.

“Katniss, you probably need to sit down—”

“I don’t NEED to sit down, damn it, I NEED to tie knots, Finnick!” He nods and pats my arm. 

“Okay. Just stay right here; no running off to murder President Snow. I’ll find some.” I’m shivering, shuddering, shaking. I can hardly catch my breath, let alone laugh at my friend’s attempt at banter. And then he’s back with a hank of hempen rope that he hands to me. I clutch it and then fall; the strength leaving everything except my hands, which are clutched in convulsive fists around the length of rope. I don’t even attempt to tie it; for the moment, all I can do is hold it tight.

Finnick has caught me in his arms (again) and eases me to the floor. And so I sit with him beside me. I am rocking in place as I try to calm myself, to piece together the unfathomable things Snow said.

“What can I do, Katniss?” my friend helplessly asks. “I’m right here. Just tell me what to do.”

“Just—just stay with me,” I whimper, and as he says he will, I hear another voice from less than a year ago whispering: “Always.” Peeta. It’s Peeta’s voice. I know he isn’t really here—not this time, at least—and maybe never will be again, but I feel myself growing calm as I remember his promise, those sincere and gentle words. I may not have them again from him, but at least I still have SOMEone—my good friend Finnick Odair.

He puts a stabilizing arm around my shoulder and strokes my hair; and somehow, incongruously, I think he’ll make one hell of a father. That helps me calm and organize myself more, and I begin tying the rope into knots that are tighter and tighter.

“He didn’t do it, Finnick,” I mutter. He leans in closer to hear me better. “Whoever ordered the dropping of . . . that bomb, it wasn’t Snow.” Finnick nods, digesting the information.

“Okay. How do you know?”

“He told me.”

“Seriously?!?” Finnick is –rightly- a skeptic. “Katniss, how the hell can you trust him??”

“Because he doesn’t lie to me,” I say. “He’s never lied to me. If he’d done it, he would have felt the need to gloat. I know he would. You know him too, from all those secrets you got out of people.” Finnick sighs and nods.

“I don’t think I know him quite as well as you seem to, but fair enough.” I take a deep breath and nod, trying not to let those words get to me. It’s true; I do know him, President Snow—way better than I would like to know.

“So if he didn’t order the bombing, who did?” My friend questions reasonably. I have a horrible suspicion that might kill me if it’s true, and will kill many more if I don’t promptly and properly act on it.


	5. Chapter 5

We’ve been asked to go to a meeting today—the remaining winners of the Games. There’s only a few of us left, but we’ve got the power to decide if they should continue in the new government. I just want to shut the whole thing up somehow, but we have to go through with it. For appearance’s sake, if nothing else. 

I go past Haymitch's room and see him actually trying to put on a tie. I’m so surprised that I almost laugh out loud; but it ends up as a cough. Apparently my mirth mechanism is a little rusty. I freeze beside the door anyway, and he looks up and sees me. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can get it out, Finnick breezes by looking extremely dapper in a dark suit.

“Here, Haymitch, let me help ya with that.” He goes right up and snaps the tie out straight before tightening it with a few deft movements. Haymitch raises both eyebrows.

“Not bad. Thanks.” Finnick smiles and makes a kidding bow.

“District 4 tribute, remember?”

Haymitch rolls his eyes. “How could I forget?”

“So there’s an actual payoff for knowing everything about knots,” I say quietly. Finnick grins and winks.

“You know it.” Then he focuses closer on me and whistles. “Wow, Katniss, you look magnificent.” I shrug off the compliment, but he continues. “No, really. That dress is stunning.” It’s one of the last of Cinna’s creations—I found it in the back of my closet. Slim and simple, yet elegant as ever. I don’t think it looks that way on me, but my friend’s features and voice are sincere, so I try to take his compliment gracefully.

“Thank you, Finnick,” I reply. “You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

“What, this old monkey suit?” he makes a funny face and this time I manage to laugh.

We enter a room with a big table and a lot of chairs, which is laughable because there’s only going to be what, six of us? There’s Johanna, her muscles taut and her bald head shining. Finnick goes over and kisses her gently on the cheek. Enobaria, the woman from District 2 with the almond-shaped eyes and pointed teeth, is sitting with her hands folded and baleful gaze fixed on us. 

Haymitch has sidled in behind me but is moving to speak to a broad-shouldered blond man in a well-fitting pearl grey suit.

Oh my God. It’s Peeta. The seventh tribute here. He’s still alive. I stare at him with tears in my eyes as he murmurs something to Haymitch and then I see Tigress step out of the shadows, her cat eyes kind as she nods at me. I nod back and feel my legs’ trembling as Peeta turns in his chair and pins his eyes on me. I almost back away. I am expecting them to be full of fury or coldly detached. But they’re not. “Katniss,” he says softly, his lips caressing my name as they used to before. His gaze is warm and gentle. I can’t believe—I don’t dare to hope that this is real, that this is Peeta, the old Peeta here with me again. But I make my eyes meet his and hold them as I move forward to hug him. I want so badly just to hold him and cry, but just as he reaches out to me in come Coin and Gale and the rest of her posse, and the moment's lost. It isn’t appropriate anymore. 

So I try to smile and quickly press his hand as I sit down beside him. Finnick sits on the other side of me and Haymitch stands behind us. I don’t like him looming over me, but there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s no point. I turn and focus coldly on Coin as she speaks.

“Welcome. Welcome to you all.” Her voice is polished like her eyes and her manners, but that polish just shines over the coldness and hardness. She has no feelings besides the wish for power. I can’t believe I hadn’t seen before. She just wants power. She doesn’t care about the lives of the people, any people. Not even her own. “We appreciate you taking the time to meet with us, to go over an important, vital question. We must decide whether to continue the Hunger Games, if we will take the Capitol’s children from them and make them truly understand what their fight was worth. What their regime was worth. Your votes will abolish or sustain it. What do you think?” Her eyes are roving around, striving to meet each of ours’ in turn. I can hardly stomach it. What, she thinks this is a democracy? She thinks she can appease us all by allowing us to vote on slaughter? Enobaria shrugs as Coin looks first at her.

“We will be demeaned no matter what we do,” she says. “District Two says do what you want.”

Tigress looks pained as she says gently in her turn, “No. Let the children live.”

Finnick is next. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are wet. His hand clutches mine beneath the table, and I think he holds Johanna’s on his other side as well. There is no trace of his typical brashness when he speaks. His voice is soft and broken. “For the games themselves I would say no; no children deserve that horror.” He looks at Tigress with sorrow in his face. Then he takes a deep breath and his tone hardens as his eyes grow cold as chips of ice and he trains them on Coin. “But for all the years in the Capitol, the horror, the humiliation. For everyone who was enslaved here. For Annie and our unborn child, I say yes. Continue the Games.” His hand is shaking as he withdraws it from mine and I nod infinitesimally at him. He smiles at me ever-so-slightly with tears standing in his eyes. Johanna slams her fist on the table and snarls,

“District Eight says do it. Kill their children! Burn them to the ground!!!”

Well, I know my vote. I am about to speak when Peeta opens his mouth.

“Are you serious?” He shrieks, eyes wide. “Are we really thinking about the possibility of continuing this madness?! Katniss?” He turns and stares pleadingly at me, tears spilling from his eyes and tracing down his cheeks. "After everything that's happened, how can you do it? After so much death, how can we continue? We have to live on. And that means we have to stop the cycle. We can't keep going on like this!" He looks around at all of us as if he thinks his words still have some sway, as if he holds some power here. But I see, sadly, that he does not. Everyone's minds are made up. Yet he still somehow has innocence. He still doesn't know. "So I say NO! Stop the murder! End the Games!!!"

I am next. And I know that I must say it, my own necessary truth. "I vote yes, for Prim." Peeta turns his eyes pleadingly to train them on Haymitch. Honestly, I almost don't care WHAT his answer is. But something makes me lift my eyes to his nevertheless, and I see in them understanding. He knows. He has always known everything that is inside me because he feels it too.

"I'm with the Mockingjay," My mentor speaks firmly. Peeta groans and puts his face in his hands. Gale does a tally and Coin reads it out. Four for continuing, two against, one abstaining.

"The Games will be continued, then. I thank you all for coming, and I hope to see you at my inauguration." And that's it. End of the meeting. Nothing else to do now, until the inauguration, when I have to kill Snow.

***

“Keeping your family safe—that was all I had left going for me, wasn’t it?” Gale asks, his voice devoid of emotion— not even defeated, just flat. I want to say something in response, but I can’t. I knew, somehow, the whole time; that it was his invention, the one he made with Beetee, that killed my sister and that Coin had ordered it. To cement everyone’s hatred of the Capitol even more. Somehow she thought that was a good idea. 

I don’t know why she thought so, and I don’t care.

I draw back the string of my bow as Coin steps up to the podium and I see Snow beside her in his bonds, shaking with laughter that turns into coughs. I can tell they’re wracking his whole body from all the way over here, and I remember his roses; his cold eyes; the alligator mutts; the hijacking of Peeta—dear, good, sweet Peeta who was the only person who loved me without reservation or judgement. Coriolanus Snow changed all that. I remember Finnick’s words, his smiling lips under those sad eyes, and I think of him holding me as I shuddered in pain and panic and fear. I think of my vote to continue the Games and I know it was wrong. There must be no more bloodshed. None but this. 

I release my arrow and hear the crowd gasp as it sprouts, like magic, from President Coin's throat.

Seemingly in slow motion she crumples from her podium onto the ground, and as I am seized from behind I hear the lone trill of a mockingjay, echoing the last sound of Coin's life; a small scream. Almost musical. I hear the mockingjay's call and an answering laugh burbles out of my throat.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Suzanne Collins for creating a thought-provoking and incredibly moving trilogy that I will always remember.
> 
> Thank you to the casting director who found the perfect Finnick Odair--Sam Claflin you magnificent bastard--and thanks to Jennifer Lawrence for being such a wonderful actress. Josh Hutcherson IS Peeta. I said it. Now we're done.
> 
> Actually, not quite. You may have noticed that I didn't include Katniss and Peeta as a relationship. This is because I wished to respect the book, and at this point in time, Katniss is not sure if Peeta will ever be the same again.


End file.
